


When I Heard the Learn'd Astronomer (but Cecilos)

by TerribleTerribleOrbs



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Based off of a poem, Gay, M/M, Pre-Canon, Pre-Relationship, idk man, just reminded me of cecilos, kinda weird premise idk, not really fluff either, some non-angsty stuff right here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-14
Updated: 2018-11-14
Packaged: 2019-08-23 18:13:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16623944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TerribleTerribleOrbs/pseuds/TerribleTerribleOrbs
Summary: When I heard the learn’d astronomer,When the proofs, the figures, were ranged in columns before me,When I was shown the charts and diagrams, to add, divide, and measure them,When I sitting heard the astronomer where he lectured with much applause in the lecture-room,How soon unaccountable I became tired and sick,Till rising and gliding out I wander’d off by myself,In the mystical moist night-air, and from time to time,Look’d up in perfect silence at the stars.-Walt Whitmanor...Basically this poem reminded me of WTNV and Cecilos so I wrote a (pretty bad not gonna lie) thing based off of it. I know it's not great but I've been having some shitty writer's block and I needed to get this thing off my chest. Cute, awkward flirting.





	When I Heard the Learn'd Astronomer (but Cecilos)

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah sooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo obviously I didn't write the poem this is based off of (it was written by Walt Whitman). I just thought this would be cute and I've been writing a lotta angst lately. Cecil is good at pick-up-lines.

 

When I heard the learn’d astronomer,

When the proofs, the figures, were ranged in columns before me,

When I was shown the charts and diagrams, to add, divide, and measure them,

When I sitting heard the astronomer where he lectured with much applause in the lecture-room,

How soon unaccountable I became tired and sick,

Till rising and gliding out I wander’d off by myself,

In the mystical moist night-air, and from time to time,

Look’d up in perfect silence at the stars.

-Walt Whitman

 

\------

 

There sit two men in the lecture room. One sits impatiently, tapping his foot against the floor in unease. The other drums his fingers against the arm of his chair - an absent-minded tick left over from when he was a child. He actually quite likes this lecture - astronomy is pretty fascinating, albeit  _ slightly _ less fun compared to the other types of science. The other man - the one tapping his foot against the floor - is no scientist, though he holds the opinion that we’ve all been scientists at one point or another in our lives. He is a radio host - and a good one at that. As he sits, trying desperately to focus on the astronomer's words, there’s a brief (and rather narcissistic) thought in his mind that he could phrase the speaker’s thoughts much better. This thought is quick and subconscious, and it holds truth. The man is rather good at speaking - even if he will not acknowledge his abilities for longer than a moment or two. 

The other man - a scientist who just arrived in town the previous night - doesn’t mind the astronomer’s lack of ability when it comes to the skills of speech. The lecturer can still express the facts and science behind the stars with his short and unpoetic sentences - who needs long, elaborate words when it comes to science? Besides, the astronomer is using graphs and figures, charts and diagrams - all of which are useful in getting his message across. The scientist does not care for poetry in speech - not yet, at least - and so he is content with the lecture. The radio host is not.

The figures and charts, the simple sentences filled with numbers and far too much information - it’s all a bit much for the radio host. He sits in his chair in that lecture hall feeling almost sick as the words swim around in his head. Around him, the others in the lecture hall clap and cheer every few minutes. They are scientists, here for scientific curiosity and genuine interest in the stars. The radio host  _ loves _ the night sky and those blinking lights that occupy it - but not like this. His unease grows steadily, his forehead grows hot - he needs to leave. So, he rises unaccountably and picks his way through the crowd of eager listeners.

The scientist keeps his eyes trained on the astronomer. The stars are  _ fascinating _ \- especially here. The sky outside is actually mostly void- oddly enough - though the few stars still blinking in the night sky shine with scientific curiosities. This lecturer has so much to say and it is all so interesting - which is why the interruption of the large, metal door (the only exit to the entire building, which honestly seems kind of dangerous) being opened is rather annoying. The scientist glances over for a second to study the rude man interrupting - the very  _ handsome _ rude an interrupting - and finds that he cannot look away. For all of those few seconds where the interruption lasts in that doorway, the scientist simply cannot rip his eyes away and back to the speaker. Then, the man is gone, and the scientist is left back to the lecture. _ I’ll have to find that man afterwards, _ he tells himself.  _ He’ll probably come back. _

__ The radio host leaves the lecture room, and he can finally  _ breathe _ again. The stuffy air, the overstuffed sentences filled with too much information - they’re gone now. A part of him regrets leaving, as he had only attended so that he may describe the information on his show. However, straightening his back and looking around his desert landscape, the man’s regret melts away in the surprisingly cool night air. An expanse of void stretches above the desert dunes, but mixed into that unending darkness are twinkling lights. The radio host can think of a million things to say about them - a hundred ways to describe the stars poetically. Instead, though, he thinks that the silence says it all.

The scientist is enraptured by the lecture, and he hangs onto every word. He listens so carefully that, when the astronomer finishes his speech and is welcomed by thunderous applause, he almost forgets about the man who left midway through. After the scientist gets a few words of praise to the astronomer, he leaves - searching the rest of the crowd for  _ that man _ . However, the man is nowhere to be found, and the scientist is forced to resign and give up his search. That is, until, he decides to take a walk and examine the stars.

The scientist strolls down walkways, eventually straying off the path, and looks up at the stars as his feet sink in the sand. He speaks to himself, speaking about the stars in scientific terms. It’s calming, to speak about the world while observing it. For a good while, the only sound is his own words streaming from his mouth. And then…

“Hello?” The voice is  _ not _ his own. He turns to face the speaker and-

“Oh! I saw you earlier!” The words are more high-pitched and surprised than he would have liked. Afterwards, he can’t seem to choke anything else out. This man is  _ very _ attractive, and it’s a lot for the scientist to handle.

The scientist is  _ very _ handsome, and it’s a lot for the radio host to handle. He had been walking across the desert sands in perfect silence, until this new man in a lab coat strolled across the dunes. For a man who speaks for a living, the radio host is really struggling with what to say.

“I… Where did you see me?” First thing that comes to mind.

“...the lecture. The, uh, astronomy lecture. You left earlier.” 

“Oh, was I really that noticeable? I hope I didn’t come off as terribly rude - I was just feeling a bit sick. All that talk of the stars.”

“Do… the stars make you sick?”

“No, just… it was kind of overwhelming.”

“Yeah, yeah I understand. All that information about the infinite universe and stuff. It’s a lot to handle.”

“I don’t mind learning about the infinite and almost totally unknown of our solsystem - I actually talk about it on my show quite a bit - it’s just the way he spoke of them-”

“Oh! I _ thought  _ I recognized your voice! You’re the radio host, right?”

“Oh! Uh.. yeah. Yes.” At this point, the radio host extended his hand. The scientist shook it, and suddenly became self conscious of how calloused and scarred his hands were. Their texture became more noticeable when one of them sits in the palm of radio host, who had soft, smooth hands that folds over the scientist’s perfectly. The radio host actually rather likes the feeling of the rougher, marked hands in his own. After a moment, the scientist slips his hand out of the handshake. He’s never really liked too much physical contact.

“Cecil Palmer.” The radio host smiles.

“Carlos.” The scientist hesitates. “I’m a scientist. One of the scientists. A bunch of us came in yesterday?” It sounds rather choppy and awkward, but the radio host doesn’t bat an eye. Perhaps all scientists are just cursed to lack a knack for poetry and prose?

“Carlos the Scientist.” The radio host states the title like a full name. 

“Carlos, the scientist.” Carlos repeats, though he states the title like a simple adjective and not part of who he is. Him being a scientist is, in fact, part of who he is, but he knows a lot of people find it off putting when he emphasises that part of himself (wearing lab coats everywhere, introducing himself as scientist more often than not, etc.). He realises he’s been staring absentmindedly for a few seconds. “So, uh… I heard your show yesterday! Not today, though.”

“I’m having an especially late-night show today. It’s only nine - tuesday’s shows are usually more around eleven or so.” The scientist nods. He’s usually awake pretty late (actually, it seems like most of the town happen to be ‘night owls’), so he’ll probably hear the show. “All the radios in town automatically turn on when my show starts, sooooo… You’ll probably hear it, either in sleep or awake.” The scientist nods. He’s curious about the whole ‘radios-automatically-turn-on thing, but he decides not to ask right now. Instead, he glances up at the sky.

“I really liked the lecture.” He says suddenly, and immediately regrets it, because it had absolutely nothing to do with the current conversation. 

“Scientists like science.” The radio host shrugs. After a moment, he adds: “I’m also pretty into science these days.” The scientist nods. He’s always been into science. “Still, though,” The radio host turns to look up at the starry night sky (mostly void). “I think I’ll always prefer observing in silence.” The scientist looks from the sky to the radio host. He’s really very handsome, the radio host, and the scientist can’t help but stare for another moment or two. The radio host looks back at the scientist, and smiles.

“I - ah - prefer science I guess. But this is also nice.” The scientist stutters.

“Mhm. The stars are beautiful, Carlos the Scientist. Especially when surrounded by so much void - they’re the only dots of light in a sky full of an empty, crushing nothing. While the opinion is not an unpopular one in Night Vale, I still feel the need to say it: I’m glad for those occasionally (but mostly not) blinking lights in the sky. There’s something so comforting in their ability to temporarily poke light through the mass of nothing. Even if it’s only a blink in length of an entire universe, and only for a second in the grand scheme of time.” The radio host blinks after his speech, and chuckles. “Went on a bit of a tangent there - sorry about that.” The scientist shakes his head.

“No - it’s fine.” He wants to say more - to say that the words were beautiful, that he would love to hear the radio host speak for  _ hours _ longer - but he didn’t. Couldn’t. The radio host smiled. 

**“I… have my show soon. I’ll see you another time, Carlos the Scientist. I like admiring beautiful things, so it’ll certainly be nice to see _you_ again.” And with that, the radio host leaves. The poor scientist barely notices the pick-up-line, and the realisation that a rather handsome radio host hit on him doesn’t actually register until later (of course, when it does, the scientist can barely speak or move for half an hour). Until then, he walks in the desert, admiring the stars. Every once in awhile, he’ll mention a fact about the stars to himself, but mostly? He’ll just stare in perfect silence. **


End file.
